skatingtripods wrote:Masterson's velo drop just doesn't allow him to sit middle of the plate. Through his last start, he's averaging 3 mph less on both his four-seamer and two-seamer this season compared to last season.

He's gonna have to start showing his Change-up to Lefties. They don't think he has the guts to throw it.

Also...why does our offense completely lack patience when Justin pitches. Guy just threw 30, goes to the bench to catch his breath, and the 1-2-3 guys all swing at the first pitch. Now he's still gassed and back on the mound.

bookelly wrote:Also...why does our offense completely lack patience when Justin pitches. Guy just threw 30, goes to the bench to catch his breath, and the 1-2-3 guys all swing at the first pitch. Now he's still gassed and back on the mound.

WTF!?!

Santana saw half as many balls in his one at-bat as the ENTIRE threesome did in the 1st inning. Methinks the rest of the team needs to take lessons.

I've tried 'em all, I really have, and the only church that truly feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the Church of Baseball.~~~Annie Savoy-"Bull Durham"

After a doubleheader there should be a concentrated effort to have AB's like that. We could feast off the meat in the BP today and tomorrow. And possible set a division rival up for a bad next series as well.

As I type...Brantley rolls over on the first pitch. I'm starting to hate Brantley.

There were days I couldn't be touched. Striking out the neighbor kid with a riser that started almost on the ground that would nip the outside, lower edge of the black tape.

Used to piss that scrawny, epileptic kid off so bad she'd start to seize up there in the driveway and her grandma would come running out to pin her tongue down with a wooden spoon. She reeked of Canadian Club from sun up til she passed out after dinner. Her grandma did too.

Then there were other days when that epileptic, GED-getting fuck would beat me 13-11 when my ball would move so much I'd walk 22 hitters.

There were days I couldn't be touched. Striking out the neighbor kid with a riser that started almost on the ground that would nip the outside, lower edge of the black tape.

Used to piss that scrawny, epileptic kid off so bad she'd start to seize up there in the driveway and his grandma would come running out to pin her tongue down with a wooden spoon. She reeked of Canadian Club from sun up til she passed out after dinner. Her grandma did too.

Then there were other days when that epileptic, GED-getting fuck would beat me 13-11 when my ball would move so much I'd walk 22 hitters.

Anyway, what the flock were we talking about?

Oh yeah.... Santana' improvement behind the dish or something...

I nominate this for post of the millennium. Words can't express how awesome it is.

A God Damn dead man would understand that if a minor league bus in any city took a real sharp right turn, a Zack McCalister would likely fall out. - Lead Pipe